Anonymous
My husband, Nathan Ford, was grounded for two years after a plane crash left him badly traumatized.
To get him through treatment, I sold the house my mother left me.
I paid the compensation he owed after the crash and sat up with him every night he was too scared to close his eyes.
The day he got back in the cockpit, he held me for a long time.
"I owe you a honeymoon. I swear I'll make it up to you under the northern lights."
After that, he picked up more and more flights.
Every anniversary, every birthday, he had a reason: a delay, a diversion, a last-minute schedule change.
I knew how hard he worked, so I never brought up the northern lights again.
Then the airline I worked for sent me on a business trip, and I made a point of booking one of his flights.
Before boarding, I overheard Lana Pierce, the young purser, asking him something outside the crew lounge.
"You keep swapping shifts just to take me to see the northern lights. Is it worth it?"
He was scrolling through photos of the two of them on his phone, his voice soft.
"If you like it, it's worth it."
So it wasn't that he couldn't find the time.
He'd already taken someone else to see the northern lights he'd promised me.
Before takeoff, I signed the divorce papers and accepted a two-year posting overseas.
This time, I was going to see my own northern lights.